


Can I Come Home?

by DayenuRose



Series: BatFam Week 2018 [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman Incorporated (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), Grayson (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Batfam Week 2018, Big Brother Dick Grayson, Family, Gen, Letters, Mention of canonical deaths, Separation, Spyral, mention of canonical resurrection, pre-new 52 Stephanie Brown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 11:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15484428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DayenuRose/pseuds/DayenuRose
Summary: Dick Grayson has accomplished the mission for which he was embedded in Spyral and is eager to come home. All he needs now is the word from Bruce that his mission is over. Only, Bruce won't answer Dick's calls. Cut off from everyone he trusts and desperate to know what's happening, Dick takes to writing letters to his family.Part of BatFamily Week 2018.Day 1 Prompt: Vacation or SeparationI chose separation.





	1. Dear Bruce

Br—, 

I know I’m breaking every protocol we set up for your safety and mine. I know this letter is foolish and futile, but I don’t know what else to do. I _need_ to hear from you. You’re not answering my calls and I don’t know what’s happening. They’re keeping a close eye on me, so I haven’t been able to sneak back to G—m and check on all of you after the recent chaos. 

Did you make it through? Are you okay? How are the others? What is happening? Why aren’t you answering? 

One mission you said. One mission and I could come home. That’s why I agreed to this sham. Now, the mission is over and I am more than ready to come home.

But, you won’t answer my calls. Why? All I can assume is that something went wrong. That you’re injured and hospitalised. Maybe you’re in a coma. Somehow you’ve been prevented from answering my calls and if I’m patient you’ll answer soon with a reasonable explanation of where you’ve gone. 

I have to assume this because the other possibilities are too terrible to imagine.

Yet, I still do. The only thing worse than your death would be that you’ve purposefully cut contact with me. That you no longer care what happens to me.

No. I cannot allow myself to dwell on that. 

In the meantime, I will continue with the mission as I cling to the hope that you have a plan. You’re the master of back up plans and contingencies. You have plans within plans. Surely you foresaw this possibility. Right? You considered the idea that something might happen to you while I was embedded here among the faceless. You told someone. Right? Surely A— knows. There must be someone who knows I am alive. Right? Right? 

Oh...no... 

Br— please respond. Let me know what’s happening. There’s more going on here, things that go beyond my original mission. If you want me to continue, I will. I just need hope that this separation has an end and I can come home. That there is an end in sight. 

The other day, I rescued a boy. He was wearing a Batman shirt and it was the thought of you that gave him hope and courage to hold on through the rescue. I’m trying to keep hold of that same hope in you. That you have a plan. That you will answer. That I will come home. 

Please. Please. Don’t let me down. 

Your son, 

D—

 


	2. Dear Jason

J—, 

Can I be honest with you? I know things have been tumultuous between us. I probably—I definitely—could have done more to help you when you came back. I’m sorry I didn’t try harder. If I ever return home, maybe we can try again? 

_Coming back_. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I think you’re the only one who can understand how I feel. And, maybe, I understand you a little better now too. 

I know, I know, you’d just scoff at that. How could I know how you feel? You went to hell and back and I only pretended to die. Br— and I misled you all. We are liars. I’m sure you’ll be angry with me whenever this all comes to light. I get it and you have every right to be angry. But, just hear me out, okay?

Here’s a secret. I died too. Actual, literal, heart-stopping death.

Please don’t tell the others. I’d rather they think I only pretended to die than to know that I was also among the literal dead. Besides, it was only a blip. A moment. Nothing compared to the amount of time you or Da— were gone. It was a desperate act to save the world. The world knew I died, they didn’t know I came back. 

In many ways, even before my literal death, I was already dead. The Syndicate told the world who I am behind the mask. I lost my anonymity. With that I lost the opportunity to remain the hero I’d become since my parents’ deaths. I could no longer be N——g.

If I can’t be a hero, who am I? 

And then, Br— offered me a chance to be useful. A way I could help save our family even with my compromised identity. I only needed to pretend to still be dead. It sounded plausible at the time. 

I regret that now. 

Here I am, alone and cut off from my family. I miss all of you so much. Even you J. The longer I am here, the more I feel like I am losing parts of myself. I’m not the same D— G— I was before I died. If I stay here much longer I fear I will no longer recognise who I am. Is that how you felt? Back from the dead and losing the core of your being. 

As I sit here, wallowing in my loneliness, I think about you. When you came back from the dead and none of us knew. None of us even considered it as a possibility. You were there, by yourself, without your family. No one to support you, no one to help you make sense of the world born anew. It had to be frightening and overwhelming. No wonder you were so angry. No wonder you came after us. 

If I told you that I am resurrected. Alone. Cast out in the cold. Would you welcome me back? Would you be the better brother? 

One last favour before I go. Will you watch out for Da—? Make sure he’s okay in his own post-resurrection life. You’re the only one who knows what he’s going through. I know he won’t admit it if something is bothering him. But, maybe you’d recognise the signs. Keep him from turning down the dark paths. He’s already been through so much. I know it’s not fair to ask, but I must. I worry about him and I’m not there. 

Thanks. 

I hope to see you soon. 

D—

 


	3. Dear Damian

Hey kiddo, 

I am so glad you’re alive. 

I never got to see you after your resurrection and tell you this in person. So, in case I never get that chance, I’m telling you now. I’m glad you’re alive. 

Speaking of life and death, I want you to know your death broke Br—. I want you to know how much he cares for you, loves you. Because we all know, he can be particularly closed off when it comes to expressing his feelings. For you, he practically moved heaven and earth to find a way to bring you back. He even journeyed to Hell and back. (Alright, Apokolips, but that’s close enough to count.) I suppose you know that much, since that’s when everything began anew for you. As for the rest of the story, I don’t know how much you’ve been told. 

I’m certain they told you I died. When things settled down, you probably asked about me. I can picture the scene. You scan the faces of your rescuers and don’t see mine. “Where’s G—?” you would demand. They shift uncomfortably, none of them wanting to be the bearer of bad news. Eventually, Br— with his inscrutable face would say, “He’s dead.” And the subject is closed. No one speaks of it again.

That’s why I’m just as certain that Br— never told you the rest of the story. The part of the story that only Br— and I know. I am alive. While you were dead, he sent me on a secret mission. I know it’s important work, but I’m ready for it to be over. I want to come home. I want to be there for you. 

Enough about me, how are you doing? How are you handling all of this? I’m writing to you today because I heard a rumour that Br— didn’t make it through the recent chaos. That he’s gone. Part of me refuses to believe that. I mean, look at our family. Though we mourn, death doesn’t tend to hold onto us for long. But, a larger part of me fears that it is true. That would explain so much. If it’s true, that means you’re alone. I know you’re a tough kid, but that doesn’t stop me from worrying about you. 

The last time Br— was missing, you and I were a team. We were B——n and R—n. I hope you know that if I could, I’d be there for you again in a heartbeat. The fact that you might be alone and I’m not there this time to be your partner is slowly killing me. I want to scream it to the world that I’m alive and you are not alone. Instead, I remain silent and wait on Br—. I wait for a call that might never come. 

I don’t know how much longer I must maintain this facade. When I get home, I promise, I’ll make it up to you. Somehow. I know I can never make up for the extent of the lie, but I want you to know, I’ve never stopped thinking about you. Never stopped caring. 

Do you remember that video game you told me about? I purchased a copy, but never played it. Every time I looked at it, I was reminded of you. Eventually I left it at your grave. I suppose it’s ruined by now. I’ll order another copy and we can play. I’ll even let you win. (Though, you’d probably say that it’s you who let’s me win.) 

One last thing before I go. If your death and resurrection ever haunts you, if you have nightmares about it, talk to J—. I know you’ve had your differences, but he comes closest to experiencing what you’ve been through. You need to know, you’re not alone. You have a family who cares for you. Loves you. Okay? 

Take care of yourself. (I know, I know...you don’t need me to tell you that). 

Love, your big brother, 

D—

 


	4. Dear Tim

Tim,

 

**I** f I’d known how things would turn out, I’d have done them differently. 

**M** y mistake was thinking that things might go as planned for once.

 

**A** nd now, I’m left waiting for the call to bring me home.

**L** ittle did I know when I agreed to play spy, it wasn’t all James Bond.

**I** ’ve had more than my share of intrigue and secrets. 

**V** exing as it is with Br— and all the secrets he keeps, he’s positively gushing in comparison to the secrets this organisation withholds. 

**E** veryday I wish this was over and that I was home with my family. 

 

**C** an you remember when I was B——n?

**A** nd, you were traveling the world looking for signs that Br— was alive. 

**N** one of us believed it was possible, but you did. 

 

**I** nstead of giving up hope, you went in search of proof. 

 

**C** ombing through the clues, you figured out he wasn’t dead, only lost.

**O** ver time, you got the rest of us to believe too. 

**M** e and the others found hope in your quest.

**E** ventually, Br— made his way home and we were a family again. 

 

**H** ope came to me the other day when I was thinking about this. 

**O** nly you figured out Br— was alive and you didn’t let anyone persuade you otherwise.

**M** aybe you figured out the same about me and are holding on to that belief with the same dogged determination. 

**E** ven if no one else believes you, you know the truth—right? 

 

**P** erhaps you are out there at this very moment, searching the world for me. 

**L** ooking everywhere for another undead brother. 

**E** verywhere, but here in the middle of the spider’s web. 

**A** nd, it never occurred to you, did it?

**S** orry, I guess I forgot. 

**E** verything is different now, isn’t it? 

 

Your lost brother, 

D—

 


	5. Dear Steph

Dear S—,

Before Br— sent me here, he had me read all the files in the computer concerning S—t H—n’s and the shadowy organisation that runs it. During my reading, I came across your report from the time you spent here. Though it’s different a time, the organisation running the school is the same. Sure, there’s less chanting of Leviathan, but they still go all out in the training future assassin/spies department. 

Sometimes, as I walk down the halls or when I’m teaching class, I can picture you among the student body. I’ve seen you fight, these girls have nothing on you. In fact, you could teach them a thing or two. A small part of me wishes that you were here too. Then, I remember where I am and I’m glad you’re back in the relative safety of G—m. (Has that sentiment ever been uttered before with a straight face? G—m, safe? Hmph.) Still, I miss having someone I can trust to watch my back. Someone I can turn to when things get ridiculous and share an eye roll and a smirk. Someone I don’t need to hide the truth from. 

Every once in a while, I think about calling Be—l, asking her to be back up since this is in her home turf. But, I never do. I don’t want her involved. I don’t want any of you involved. In fact, I don’t even want to be involved with this mess any longer. 

Can I admit that I’m a bit jealous of you and your time here? (Don’t give me that expression. It is possible.) Okay, fine. Let me explain. When you were here, you had Br— for backup. I have no one. And now, my one last connection to home—to family—is gone. 

I suppose I shouldn’t need anyone. I’ve been doing this for a long time. I’ve been a hero for more years of my life than I haven’t been one. It’s practically the only thing I know how to be. And, yes, I have the skills to manage on my own. The thing is, the whole lone wolf hero thing has never really been my MO. 

Which is why I wanted to ask you about a line you put in your report. You said, when B——n left you on your own to take down a bunch of mind controlled assassin girls, you knew he wouldn’t have left unless he knew you could manage on your own. Do you really believe that? Do you think that’s why he’s not answering my calls? He trusts me to figure this out on my own? 

Sorry...I didn’t mean to ramble like that. I just wanted to say, I’ve been thinking about you all. I miss my family. And, if you think of it, could you please make sure the rest know that I’m alive. And, if you happen to run into Br—, I’d appreciate if you let him know that I really, REALLY want to come home. Thanks.

Your fellow inmate of S-. H—n’s, 

D— 

 


	6. Dear Babs

Dear Ba—, 

I need to tell you a story. It’s a little confusing at first, but hang in there, it’ll make sense soon. 

When I was a kid, my mom loved Christmas. She had this book of old Christmas stories and traditions. Every year she’d read parts of it to me and my dad. I don’t know what happened to that book, but lately one of those traditions has been coming to mind. I want to share it with you. 

You see, before children sent letters to Santa through the post office, they’d burn the letters in the fireplace. As the letters burnt, the ashes would fly up the chimney and find their way to ol’ Saint Nick. He’d gather the ashes and put the letters back together so he would know the children’s wishes. 

You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you this. It’s nowhere near Christmastime and it really is a rather random story to recall. I chose you because, of everyone in the family, you’re the one most likely to have heard of this tradition before. And, even if you haven’t heard of it, you’d understand what I’m telling you. You’d know what to do.

Against every precaution that has been set up for my safety and all of yours, I’ve been writing letters. Yeah, me, writing letters. Longhand and everything. I’ve been writing to all of you, but I can’t send them. Secret spy organisations frown on you walking down to the nearest mailbox and posting letters that might spill their secrets. 

Besides, to all of you, I am dead. A corporeal ghost. A figment of the past. A mourned memory. To them, I am a spy without a home. Without a family. A tool they can use and dispose of at their slightest whim. 

So...I compromise. I write these letters and I burn them. I burn them in the hope that the ashes will find their way to G—m and to you. If a swirl of ashes finds you (or, the others), collect them, please. Put them back together. Read my messages and know all the things I cannot say. 

I’m alive, Ba—. My greatest wish is to come home. To come out of the cold and to be with all of you again. To be with _you_. 

There’s so much more I want to tell you in particular. Things that have nothing to do with my present shadowy half existence. I want to reminisce of our shared past and dream of the future. But, every time I put the pen to paper, it feels like a futile gesture. What good are the memories of a ghost? What use are the plans of a dead man? So, instead, I make one last request. 

Please, don’t forget me. 

All my love, 

D—

 


	7. Dear Bruce, Again

Bruce...

It’s me, again. Writing another letter you’ll never receive. I’m throwing all caution to the wind and writing without code. It doesn’t matter anymore, because— 

I’m done. 

This farce is over. I’m coming home.

I don’t care if you have a new plan or some grand scheme. I’ve been more than patient as I’ve waited for your response. You refuse to tell me what you’re thinking, so I’m done. 

When you asked me to take on this mission, I thought it was the only way I could protect our family and friends. I allowed you to convince me that it was okay to let everyone think I’m still dead. You promised me it would only be for one mission. ONE. You said you and I would stay in touch. That I would never truly be alone as long as I could contact you. 

Well, what happened? Where are you? Are you dead? Are you alive? Have you lost your memory? Or, have you finally forgotten about me? Am I worth so little to you, that once I’m out of sight, I’m out of mind? That once my mission was completed, you no longer needed me. 

I can’t....I can’t believe that. I know we’ve had our issues. You and all your damn secrets. And now, I am one of them. What was your plan for that?

Why did you think it was a good idea to not tell anyone about me? Who was _your_ backup? Our lives are dangerous. Each night out on the street could be our last. We play a good game and keep pace with the most powerful people on the planet, but we are still mortal. Though Death has yet to hold any of us tight in his embrace, it doesn’t mean we can forever evade the Reaper. Surely you know this. Surely you have plans in place in case of your death or disappearance. 

Everyone assumes Alfred is privy to your plans. But, he doesn’t know your secrets either, does he? If he knew, he would have answered my calls. Maybe, your backup plan is me. After all, I’m the one who takes on your mantle when you’re absent. Only, now, there’s the grand irony that I died before you and what, you never updated your will? So, your secrets sit in limbo. Finally safe because no one knows what’s rattling around in that great big brain of yours. 

Bruce, I’m losing myself out here. The other day, I came face to face with Luthor and he could control my actions. The man who killed me, could force me to dance to his whim. It makes me sick to think on that. I learned that the Spymasters can pull my strings like a marionette at any time they feel like it. I fought a duplicate of myself. It tried to turn everyone against me. It tried to make me question who I am. 

What were you thinking, sending me here among the faceless? There’s no one I can truly trust. There’s no one to watch my back. 

Playing the spy is fine when there’s an end in sight. When you can go home each night and be yourself. Even though I am constantly surrounded by people, I am utterly alone. I must constantly maintain a facade and never truly be myself. And, it’s all wrong. I’m not the lone wolf. . The solo avenger. The dark knight

Bruce, I’ve always been part of a team, from the Flying Graysons to Batman and Robin. Even when I was on my own, I was never really on my own. The Titans, the Outsiders, even the Blüdhaven PD. For me, it’s more than being part of a team—it’s being a family. 

I need my family. And, they need me. Especially if you’re gone. 

So, I’m coming home. I’m done with spies and secrets. I don’t care how angry the rest of them will be with me, I’m telling them the truth—

I am alive. 

Do you hear that world? Richard Grayson is alive. 

When I finish this letter, I am giving you one last chance to answer. I will make one more call. I’ll try to contact you one last time. If you don’t answer, I’m coming home. I’m leaving this all behind and discovering the truth about what happened.

The prodigal son is returning. Your son who was dead, is now alive again. I’m coming home to my family and you can’t stop me. 

Your son, 

Dick

 


End file.
